So you think you can just knock yourself out of depression hey?

By Tricia Righetti 28/12/2018

What's it like living with anxiety and depression? More specifically what's it like living with anxiety and chronic depression or dysthymia to use its more technical term. Because you've had this for over two years now, and it’s not classed as chronic before that; you've had a chance to work things out, and you know what to do if you happen to have an 'episode' during the day.

Imagine you’re a quick thinker, artistically inclined, love your job and you've just worked an eight hour day. You're pretty tired and are looking forward to chilling, having a relaxing wine, dinner and a good night's sleep.

Now imagine that that eight-hour day was in fact twelve hours, part of it being pretty physical work the other part being mentally challenging. However, those hours weren't just spilt in two, half-physical, half-mental with a nice lunch break in between; they were, in fact divided into sporadic and intermittent periods of each. The physical labour was more like running a marathon, a kilometre at a time, and the mental labour more akin to a PHD exam, and lunch was a hurried stale sandwich, gobbled while sitting at your workspace, juggling your tools of trade while eating. With coffee.

Is this getting clearer?

Okay, let's get a little closer to the true situation then.

Imagine that before you went to work, you hauled your overtired, sleepy body out of bed looking forward to a long shower and a nice breakfast. But, while you were in the bathroom, you were attacked by an angry run-away tiger. It suddenly appeared, growling at you in your nice, tightly confined safe space, ready to leap at you. As it leaps, it disappears, turning out to be steam from your shower. That’s anxiety popping its head up, but your brain doesn't know that, for your brain its real, triggered by that primitive flight or fight thing. Now your heart is pounding rapidly, your stomach is upset and your legs quivering with the desire to run. Just run, anywhere you can. But you can't run, you're already late and because of the nausea, you really can't face breakfast.

So you rush to work, facing the peak-hour traffic, getting caught at every light and experiencing idiot drivers the whole way. By the time you get to work, you’re really stressed and panting with the effort just to get up the short flight of stairs from the car park. At which point your brain, because of the heavy breathing, has decided that this time it's a sabre-toothed tiger you're facing, and despite all efforts to control what's happening, and this time your body and brain rush you head long into fright or flight mode.

Except that you're at work and you can't go anywhere or do much about it. You haven't been able to tell your colleague's about your condition because you don't think they will understand as they're all go-getters and not terribly concerned about one another anyway. So you're forced to take the final alternative of this ancient response; to freeze in place and begin your workday. Starting with the PHD exam. By morning smoko, you’re shaking from the effects of adrenaline and the build-up of cortisol in your system, so you grab a coffee and one of those egg and bacon rolls from the cafeteria, feeling slightly better after.

When you get back to your workstation, you find that you can't remember what part of the exam you were supposed to be completing, and your boss calls you in to an all employees meeting to review your week so far. You know your work, so you're able to do a pretty good presentation about what's been happening, even with the entire work force in front of you. However, when you leave the meeting, you’re suddenly not sure whether you've presented this week's work efforts or last week's work efforts.

Once you're back at your workstation, it's time for that marathon run, with some push-ups thrown in for good measure. But hey, that's not too bad because it's now closer to lunchtime and you know you can have a decent break and feed.

Oh, oh, we forgot something, your boss asks you if you can give him the printout for your great presentation earlier, and that's how you end up with a late lunch and a stale sandwich at your workstation.

The afternoon is pretty much the same routine, but there's no official afternoon smoko, so you grab another quick coffee while still working, maybe your third or fourth for the day. After switching from the PHD exam to the marathon a few more times (it's a twelve-hour day remember) it's finally time to go home to that glass of wine, dinner, and bed.

Only you forgot to take the steak out the freezer and you've run out of fresh veggies. Well, the wines okay, and as you pour a glass you have some baked beans on toast to go with it, while watching the news on the box, which disturbs you so much that you eventually watch a sitcom. After you nearly fall asleep on the lounge, you realise that it's time for bed and you’re looking forward to a great night's sleep, because you're both mentally and physically exhausted, and the wine has made you nice and sleepy.

By the time you've washed the few dishes, put your laundry on, fed the fish, and cleaned your teeth, you hit the sack, expecting to fall asleep straight away.

However, now your brain decides that it really was lasts weeks work you presented to the boss, and you know you're going to have to do the whole thing over again tomorrow. Your brain takes the next three hours to sort it out, going over the information again and again, until your body just gives in and falls asleep with the light on and you half-hanging out the bed. At least you didn't snore and wake yourself up tonight, and when you wake up freezing to switch the light out, you're able to fall pretty much straight back to sleep. This time.

And you'll be able to do the shopping tomorrow. After work. Or maybe in your lunch break.

That's a pretty fair description of a day spent living with anxiety and depression. Everything just keeps on happening and you barely get a chance to breathe, let alone rest and process everything.

But I've left one thing out....

It's Groundhog Day, and tomorrow, you're going to have to do the whole damn thing over again, exam, marathon, tigers and all.